


into the future. let what will be, be.

by nothingtoseeherefolks



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Afterlife fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Korosensei and Aguri reunite, pure self indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28863873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingtoseeherefolks/pseuds/nothingtoseeherefolks
Summary: When Korosensei imagined death, he wasn’t quite sure what he expected. Darkness? Nothingness? Hell?Surely, he could never have imagined this. He never thought he would see her again.
Relationships: Korosensei/Yukimura Aguri
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	into the future. let what will be, be.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a line in the Robert Frost poem, “Acceptance.” I wrote this up awhile ago when I finished the series, but I figured I would post it here. Please enjoy :)

Pain was not unfamiliar to him. Hell, being stabbed was a regular occasion in his past, and somewhat his present.

When it happened, he barely acknowledged it. The physical pain could not even compare to how difficult it was to keep his expression and voice calm minutes beforehand.   
  


_He had to be strong. One last time._

Korosensei was at peace with the concept of his own death. He had accepted his fate long ago, but these children, _his students_. Seeing them hurt was worse than any knife.

Nagisa smiled as promised. His eyes were filled were tears, and his hands shook with regret. But, he did not move.

Above all, Korosensei felt lighter. He was proud of them. He hoped they all knew that. He closed his eyes.

_His students cried. Some of their grips loosened, and he would have chastised them if he could. Others gripped him tighter, as if perhaps they held on a bit tighter they could keep him here with them._

The deed was done. He had taught them all that he could. And now, he could rest.

  
  


* * *

When he woke up, he was amidst the stars. He would have mistaken it for the night sky, if it were not for their sheer abundance.

The lights illuminated nothing in the inky blackness, yet they twinkled around him. He reached out (tentacles still, he thought wordlessly) and spun one of the stars, which twirled like a pinwheel. He watched in wonder as light and particles danced from its delicate blades.

He looked below him, half-expecting to see the Earth beneath his feet, but he only saw more lights. More empty space.

Not too unlike an actual octopus, he “swam” through the inky space around him. His mind helplessly wandered back to his students. How they would laugh if they could see him now.

He swam down...searching for something he supposed. Some sort of indicator, waiting for something to change. Eventually, the black sky faded to navy, then to blue, then red. And finally, to white. The stars were hardly visible in the white space, but he saw something else instead.

A figure dressed in white.

_It’s what they buried her in, he thinks._

He landed wordlessly beside her. Uncertainty filled his mind. Could it be true...?

“You sure look different,” she spoke, breaking the illusion that this was a mere hallucination. Or maybe she still was, who was to say.

Korosensei couldn’t help but stare. Even if this wasn’t real, she _felt_ so real. At her warm gaze, he looked down, feeling suddenly sheepish. “I...I feel different,” he admitted.

“Those kids,” she began. She touched his arm. He involuntarily sucked in a breath at the startling warmth. It was as if she were alive again. “They’re going to be alright.”

As if on cue, the area around them changed. Despite it feeling like he had travelled through the stars for hours, the scene around him told him otherwise. The crescent moon hung high in the sky. His robe remained on the grass, and the children clutched onto it. The last fragments of his body were still floating away. It was difficult to watch.

No matter how cruel, it was for the best, he reminded himself.

“I know,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, shaky. “I know,” he repeated more resolutely.

They stood on the hill, but he couldn’t feel the grass beneath his feet. He couldn’t feel the air that blew through the children’s hair. As much as he would have if he could, he couldn’t cry either. It made sense he guessed. He was dead. The only thing he could feel was—

“I missed you,” he said.

She touched his face, stroking it with her thumb. He raised a hand to touch hers. He could feel her. “I missed you, too.”

“I’m sorry,” he said after a pause, and silently curses himself. He should have started the conversation with an apology, but now...he’ll have to make do. “I really do mean it,” he tries.

Aguri was quiet, confused maybe, but she didn’t let go of him, so that must count for something.

“I...there is no excuse for what I did.” His expression furrowed. “I took so many lives, many were innocent, and I knew it was wrong, how could I not, but I didn’t care. I was angry. And—And it caused you to lose yours. I’m sorry.”

The words seemed to sink in, as she considered it over in her mind. After a moment, she responded. “I don’t know who you were before I met you.” She closed her eyes. “But...they tortured you. And then they killed me,” she said. She shook her head. “You didn’t kill me. You tried to protect me.”

“I didn’t—I _couldn’t_ kill you,” he agreed. “But I shouldn’t have killed them, either.” At his confession, Aguri looked at him curiously. “I’ve learned...people can grow and are always changing, in small but meaningful ways.” He paused. “And well, if they don’t, well, it’s not my place to play justice. I’ll just leave that up to someone else. I’ve realized my purpose as a teacher is to maximize growth and seize potential. Not to stunt it. Death only prevents the possibility of change.”

“How profound.” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t learn it on my own,” he replied.

“But couldn’t you argue that they deserved it for violating human rights in such a way?”

He almost scoffed. “Then you could argue I did as well.”

“Fair enough, I guess.” She looked up at the stars. The _real_ stars, or as real as one can expect of this pocket of reality. “Though, I must confess something as well.”

“Hmm?”

She gazed at him seriously. “I had a major crush on you,” she said, which surprised a laugh out of him. “It was totally unprofessional and likely morally questionable, but eh, I guess it didn’t really matter in the end.”

“No,” he said. “I suppose not.”

After a few moments of tranquility, something they almost never had before, “‘Korosensei,’” she murmured. “That’s what they called you, right?”

“Yes. That’s my name now.”   
  


(The name those kids gave him. A name that encapsulated who he was, and who he strived to be. His purpose, as their teacher.)

“Well, _Korosensei_ , I have a proposal for you.”

“What is it?”

A little apprehensively, “I feel like our alive time was cut short. So, I was wondering, how would you like...” she looks away, “spending an eternity getting to know each other a little better?”

Could she—?

Korosensei blinked, before his entire head turned pink. “Now?”

“Well—sure.”

“But I mean, like, right now, _right now_? The kids are kinda still crying in the background isn’t that a little crude?”

Her face turned cherry red and she shoved him away. (He felt that, too, he mused idly). “Not—Not like that you, pervert!”

Flustered, she let out a huff and tried to regain her composure. “I _meant_ , do you want to...spend more time together? I don’t know. Maybe it was presumptuous to assume that a bit of flirting all those years ago amounted into anything worth pursuing long term, but you mean a lot to me and I would—I would like to—“

His gaze softened. “I love you, too.”

She stopped, her demeanor relaxing, then a slow smile found its way on her face. She pressed herself against him. _Warmth_. “You’re so stupid. You hardly know me,” she murmured without any real heat to it. And asked, somehow managing to not sound demanding, but rather the opposite: “So, is that a yes?”

Before he answered, Korosensei looked back at the school. The edges of the world around them were fading back into white space and it would be gone soon, but he could see the students. They were going inside now, and they would find his manuals if they went into the old classroom.

This time, when he told himself the students would turn out okay, the words sounded less like he was convincing himself that they were true, and more so that they simply were just that.

They survived without him before, and they can survive without him once again.

He survived without them, and...well, it didn’t feel like it, but he supposed he could move on as well one day. As long as he could check up on them every now and then.

Everything was and _is_ going to be okay.

The stars, that had seemed so alien before, would seem so much more inviting. A spin of its wheels and a cloud of stardust would remind him of home. The space will no longer feel empty, but full of limitless potential.

And when he thinks about the life he had, he won’t feel sorrow or regret, but joy. There will be no discriminate between the poor choices he made and the life-changing ones—no embarrassment or hatred. Just the fact that he experienced them was enough.

But that won’t be for some time.  
  


So for now, Korosensei looks at her, her expectant gaze fixed on him: the person he treasured and idolized, someone who unwittingly changed his life, was perhaps a lover, and above all else, was his closest, dearest friend, and replies,

“Yes.”


End file.
